


The Gaslight Affair

by georgiamagnolia



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M, Mildly Slash, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tricking THRUSH is just another day on the job for UNCLE agents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gaslight Affair

It was sort of funny when he allowed himself to think about it, his partner likening him to a cat at every opportunity. He would sometimes remind him of one of their old affairs and call him ‘pooseycat’ when the fancy struck him, and when he was sure Illya wouldn’t.

But the truth was that Napoleon was as much a cat as anyone, just look at his reputation for tomcatting around. And there were his fastidious grooming habits, always with every hair in place and shoes polished to a fine sheen, suit impeccable and tie just so. Oh yes, his partner was well acquainted with the cat’s habits, not to mention his apparent nine lives. And like a cat, Napoleon hated to be dumped in water. Certainly he would enjoy an afternoon at a spa for a steam and massage, he would enjoy a turn in the whirlpool at the gym after a workout, he definitely enjoyed his bourgeois decadence of a bathroom in his apartment with its garden tub and elevator sized separate shower. But those were nothing more than elaborate grooming rituals, just like a cat. But getting dumped into a body of non-bathwater that did not involve the donning of swim trunks and a dose of chlorine, no, that never pleased his partner. How a man could enjoy sailing as much as he did and so dislike an accidental dunking, was beyond Illya’s understanding. At least this time there would be no ruined suit to try to slip into an expense report. They were dressed in THRUSH issue guard jumpsuits and the dunking had been a necessary evil while escaping.

“Please tell me your communicator survived the lake?”

Illya handed it over. He returned to hotwiring the THRUSH jeep while Napoleon made their preliminary report, just as he got the jeep to cough to life there was a whump of sound and then a strong breeze carrying the scent of spent explosives and scorched wood. Seconds later Napoleon was holding on for dear life as Illya sped them away from the burning ruins, grinning.

They stopped long enough to grab their suitcases and exchange the stolen jeep for their own rental, finally stopping at a small motel all the way across town and checking in with headquarters to make sure the clean up crew had gotten the job done. Illya was watching the local news report about a gas leak igniting while Napoleon confirmed the plan for relaying their stolen THRUSH blueprints on to another team.

Their trade off successful, they returned to New York City and filed their report, then answered Mr. Waverly’s summons for their debriefing.

As their meeting was winding down to its end, Alexander sat back in his chair, filling his pipe with tobacco. “What do you think our chances are, Mr. Kuryakin, for success with this?”

“As long as they don’t figure out that we have made their entire New England communications network an antennae tuned directly to us, we should be able to anticipate every move they make.” Illya looked over at Napoleon, then continued. “The trick will be keeping them from suspecting the communications net itself for as long as possible.”

Alexander turned to Napoleon with an expectant look.

“We believe we could, ah, misdirect them for a while. If we make it seem as if there is a mole, or perhaps more than one, THRUSH will stay busy ripping itself apart from the inside, for a while at least.”

“Do go on,” Alexander said as he put lit match to the bowl of his pipe.

“One or two teams, always around about the time that THRUSH is making a plan, perhaps just happening to be seen in the vicinity several days before an UNCLE raid on a nest or before a plan goes awry, these might lead the paranoid to think that more than bad luck and good UNCLE agents went into the downfall of their well laid machinations. They believe too strongly in their superior technology, so they will expect human failing first. While they are trying to find the traitors in their midst, we can be cleaning up.”

Alexander sat back, thoughtfully puffing the aromatic smoke and contemplating. Finally he sat forward again, “Yes, it might work. The blueprints you retrieved and passed off to be altered have already been intercepted. We estimate about three weeks before we will start getting their transmissions. Starting Monday morning, I want the pair of you,” Alexander jabbed at them with his pipe to make his point, “to start evaluating the best candidates for this false impression. Three teams I think, two teams from Section Two and a pair from Section Three, just to keep THRUSH guessing. Then I want geographical areas assigned and a plan of action. We need to pinpoint the likeliest areas for the best impact. Keeping it localized will help with the impression that it is a mole, I think.” He sat back again, drawing on the pipe and looking as pleased as he ever did. But Illya and Napoleon both could see the wheels turning behind the brief flash of satisfaction the crossed Alexander’s face.

***

“My turn tonight, Chinese, Italian, take out from the deli?” Illya leaned on his partner’s desk. Napoleon didn’t even look up from the files in front of him. “The entire secretarial pool has decided to streak down the hall in front of Mr. Waverly’s office.” Not even a raised brow. “Napoleon!”

“Sorry, partner, you were saying?”

“I’m saying it has been over twenty hours since you slept. Dinner and then sleep. Waverly said he wants the planning started on Monday, I doubt he meant that you should have the whole thing in place by then.”

Napoleon rubbed his hands over his face and realized that he was tired as well as hungry. He leaned back in his chair and studied the blond leaning on his desk. “Right, of course, you’re right,” he started to clear his desk.

“What happened to Jacqueline? I thought she was your Friday date this week.”

“She got a better offer.”

Napoleon didn’t look up, Illya’s clue that there was more to the story. He stayed silent.

“Willis in Section Three might have been pining after her. He might have lucked into a pair of theatre tickets.”

“You like to play matchmaker entirely too much, my friend.”

Napoleon shrugged and then gave Illya smile, even through the tired haze he managed to have a pleased gleam in his eye.

***

“Are you going to eat that last eggroll or fall asleep?”

“Both, maybe. Halvsies?”

Illya held up the eggroll in question and Napoleon took a bite, Illya finished it and licked his fingers. Napoleon leaned against the back of the couch again, eyes closed. Illya started to clean up the empty take out cartons and Napoleon opened one eye, “Leave it for morning.”

“No, it’s never that much fun to wake up in the morning to the mess from the night before. Why don’t you go shower, you’ve been itching all afternoon from the lake water. I have no idea why, it’s just water.”

“Maybe I’m allergic to lakes.”

Illya simply shot Napoleon a look and got up to dump the containers in the trash. “Come along, Napoleon, dinner and then sleep, remember? Doctor’s orders.”

“I don’t think your Ph.D covers treatment for exhaustion. And I was looking forward to dessert.”

“You can have dessert for breakfast.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“That’s what I am counting on, my friend.”

***

Much later that night Illya was awake, listening to Napoleon’s even breathing in sleep. The relaxed sound was soothing, reassuring. They’d returned successful and surprisingly intact. He smiled thinking of the weekend stretching out ahead of them. He was not surprised when Napoleon shifted in his sleep to throw an arm over his chest and settle again. Illya reached up and softly smoothed his lover’s hair, an action he would rarely perform outside the private moments they kept for themselves. He smiled again when Napoleon, still firmly asleep, pushed against his palm with his head.

***

“Marvin and Ehrenfeld are late checking in.”

“So much for observation only. You’re on your way?”

“I’m twenty minutes from their last known.” Illya’s frustration came through loud and clear over the communicator.

Napoleon sighed. “And I’m thirty from yours. I’ll meet you in Dedham, then. Don’t have any fun until I get there.”

“I’ll be sure to tell THRUSH to wait for you.”

“It might not be THRUSH.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love your optimism, Napoleon?”

Napoleon didn’t bother to answer, just gripped his communicator in his teeth and pulled the cap off to shut the connection down while driving one handed and changing lanes to overtake the slow moving Buick in front of him.

It had been several long months that they’d spent building their manipulation of THRUSH. They started small with one or two little raids every few weeks for which they showed up early, allowing a few agents to be seen in the area. They had spent weeks just scattering their attention to keep THRUSH guessing. Then they had upped the stakes by narrowing their focus to one area. This was how Napoleon found himself driving around Massachusetts. He checked his watch, still another fifteen minutes until he’d be meeting up with his partner.

Illya found the surveillance location and a pair of unconscious agents, only one was theirs. He secured the THRUSH agent and did what he could to make Marvin comfortable, though waking from whatever he’d been dosed with would be a less then pleasant experience, no matter what Illya did for the man before hand. He was checking for tracking equipment on the off chance that Ehrenfeld was broadcasting when a communicator sounded. It wasn’t his. He found Marvin’s in his jacket and opened it.

“Go.”

“Hank?”

“Kuryakin. Where are you, Mr. Ehrenfeld?”

“Unknown. A car trunk I think. I was doing a perimeter check and got clocked, woke up in the dark and moving. Where’s my partner?”

“He’s indisposed. But managed to incapacitate his own attacker. Turn on the homing signal in your communicator and I will track you. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Done. Ehrenfeld out.”

Illya watched the red light on the machine in front of him blink on and off. When he heard the car engine, he shut the briefcase-like tracker and drew his weapon, just in case it was not his own partner arriving. THRUSH may already be on the way if the unconscious enemy agent on the floor had time to call it in before his ill fated attack. He slipped up to the window next to the door and was relieved when he saw Napoleon coming up the steps.

“What have we got here?”

“Mutually assured unconsciousness.”

Napoleon merely raised a brow and then stepped over to check on Hank Marvin. He was breathing clearly and seemed in no distress. “And Chuck?”

Illya held up the case, “Tracking as we speak.”

“Let’s take out the trash and leave before the buzzards circle.”

***

He was good at faking unconsciousness, he was trained for it, and he knew the longer he could keep it up the more he could learn. When the movement of the vehicle slowed he relaxed and allowed his breathing to slow as well, feeling his heartbeat slow. By the time light entered with the opening of his confinement, he had put himself in a light trance.

“Where’s B…”

“Shhh! No names.”

“Where is nameless number one?”

“Why is he number one?”

“Because he’s the first one we’re talking about, unless you’re missing another partner I don’t know about?”

“No, just B… number one.” There was a grunt as the two men speaking lifted him none too gently from the trunk. “He didn’t make the rendezvous point.”

“So you left him.”

“Protocol. He knows it as well as me, and he’d leave me if I missed a meet.”

“As if we’re following protocol right now anyway.”

“Shut up. And keep his head from hitting the doorframe, we don’t need him getting amnesia from a concussion and not telling us what we want to know.”

“Unless you already gave him a concussion.”

Another grunt was the only response as the two carried him somewhere with stairs and then dumped him on what felt like a couch. One of them straightened his limbs and checked his breathing. Foolish, Ehrenfeld thought, I could have grabbed his head and snapped his neck while he was listening to my chest. Not knowing where the other man went, if the two were all there were or if someone had a weapon trained on him all kept him quiet until he could assess the situation more.

“Why isn’t he secured?”

“I didn’t have any handcuffs.”

“Did you even search him?”

“I dumped his gun.”

“You know UNCLE agents carry more than guns.”

“I emptied his pockets, all he had was some loose change.”

“On an UNCLE agent, even the pocket lint is dangerous. Check him again.”

There was some fumbling and he was sure his pen, tucked in the pocket inside his suit jacket where it had been the whole time would be taken, but it wasn’t.

“Not even lint.”

“Fine. Tie him up with this.” There was more fumbling, then his feet were tied, as well has his hands. In front of him. Ehrenfeld wondered for a minute if it was amateur hour or if these guys weren’t THRUSH at all. But who else would have been laying in ambush? And they did seem to know who UNCLE was, after all.

The first guy, his attacker, was speaking again, “When do you think he’ll wake up?”

“I don’t know, how hard did you hit him?”

“Pretty hard.”

“Well, we probably have time for a sandwich at least. You go make some and I’ll keep an eye on the captive.”

There was grumbling and then a door closing.

“I know you’re awake.”

He kept still, breathing just as he had been, allowing his relaxed state to carry him.

“I know you can hear me, UNCLE, and I just want some answers. You give me those and I’ll let you be.”

Chuck knew that THRUSH would as soon lie as breathe, so he continued to ignore the voice.

“We’re the new guys, see. My partner has already been taken in for questioning by our own bosses and if we can find the damn mole we can turn him in and save our own skins, plus, we’ll get promoted. I know you don’t know what it’s like to work for THRUSH, but let me tell you this, it’s every man for himself right now and I don’t intend to get taken out by mistake. So you are gonna wake the hell up and tell me what I want, got that?” The man punctuated this by grabbing Chuck by the collar and yanking him off the couch. Chuck’s head lolled and he remained limp. The other man threw him back down and Chuck could hear him starting to pace. “Dammit, not playing possum after all. Damn stupid UNCLE agent. Just wake up and tell me who your contact is already.”

The man continued to grumble and pace. The other returned, presumably with food as they were quiet for a time.

***

“We will be right on top of them over the next rise, I suggest we stop here.”

Napoleon pulled the car over and checked the back seat, Hank was still unconscious. “I’ll check on our guest.” In the trunk, the THRUSH agent was also out like a light, hogtied and pockets emptied. Napoleon made sure there was nothing that could be used as a tool for escape and shut the trunk again.

Napoleon watched as Illya skirted the edge of the woods that the road passed through. His partner kept low, moving fast and Napoleon was reminded, as he always was, of the essential nature of the man, hunter, predator, assassin. He didn’t think Illya did it consciously, this stalking, it seemed to just happen. Illya went into a half crouched run as he neared the top of the rise and then slipped into the shadows of the trees, twilight covering him.

Napoleon waited impatiently for Illya’s report. He was ready to follow after his sneaking partner when the warbling communicator finally sounded. “Solo.” He didn’t mean for it to sound so abrupt, then again he wasn’t happy with splitting up either.

“There’s a farm house here, two cars out back, two men inside as well as our missing agent. They seem to be interrogating him, but not very vigorously.”

“I like those odds. Give me five minutes and I’ll come in around the other side.”

“In five. Kuryakin out.”

 

It was almost disappointingly easy. By the time the sun had fully set and the woods had given over entirely to the shadows of night, the two THRUSH were tied to straightbacked kitchen chairs and Illya was questioning one while the recently released Ehrenfeld worked on the other. Napoleon split his time between the kitchen and the living room where the two simultaneous interrogations were taking place, stopping occasionally to check the still sleeping agents. Hank Marvin finally started to wake and Napoleon helped him into the bath to clean up and get the nausea out of his system. The sleeping THRUSH finally came around and Napoleon sat him up on the bed they’d laid him out on and started his own questioning.

When Hank was well enough to leave the bathroom, the four UNCLE agents went outside to the car to compare notes.

“I can’t believe these are the idiots that got the drop on us.”

“Even beginners have luck, Hank.”

“He’s right, Napoleon, these are typical examples of the THRUSH brain trust.”

“And yet, with enough initiative to decide to undertake their own investigation of the mole problem.”

“They have bright futures ahead of them then,” Illya groused.

“I suggest we leave them to it. We’ve dropped enough hints that the mole is someone high placed in their organization and we’ve established that THRUSH is busily looking exactly where we want them to, I’d say we’ve turned this to our purposes.”

“Now we just have to get them to escape with this information.”

“No problem, we let them hear us call in a clean up team. Then we take off and let them think that their destruction is imminent, or will be when we come back, which we won’t be doing. Nor will a crew be on the way, which won’t matter since they won’t be here to greet them anyway.” Chuck said.

“Simple, straight forward. Too easy?” Napoleon looked at his partner who shrugged.

“Not as convoluted as your usual schemes, Napoleon, but it should work. We don’t want to confuse the poor THRUSH stool pigeons, after all.”

Napoleon glared at his partner and then shrugged. “Enough. Let’s get this over with.”

***

“Yes, Mr. Waverly, we’re sure that the THRUSH will take the information back to their superiors. We should be hearing about it over their communications soon.”

“Well done, Mr. Solo. Are you still on schedule to move further north next week?”

“I think we’ve done as much damage in the Boston area as we can for now, yes.”

“Excellent. We’ll continue monitoring from here and apprise you if the situation changes. In the meantime, I think it best if Mr. Marvin and Mr. Ehrenfeld take a few days off, perhaps best if they are not seen in the area for a while. And that goes for you and Mr. Kuryakin as well, in case those superiors decide not to take their employees’ word for what happened.”

“Yes, sir. Do you need us to return to New York then?”

“Certainly not. You’re due in Maine in a week, take your time getting there. Just get out of Boston in the morning. It should be a pretty drive this time of year, so my wife keeps reminding me, fall colour and all.”

“Apparently Mrs. Waverly thinks you are due for a vacation as well?”

Alexander harrumphed and then signed Channel D off. Napoleon grinned and tried not to laugh. His boss was as allergic to vacations as his partner was. Speaking of his partner, what was taking him so long?

Napoleon got up and went to listen, the shower was still running, door to the bath open a bit. He pushed it all the way open.

“Are you going to use all the hot water?”

“I don’t think so.” Illya pulled the curtain back a bit. “You can always join in if you are afraid of missing out.”

“Who has the convoluted plans now?” Napoleon was already unbuttoning his shirt.

Illya simply smirked in his satisfied way and pulled the shower curtain closed again. Napoleon wondered how big the hot water tank for the hotel was. He thought for a moment about wiping the grin off his partner’s mouth, then thought better of it. More fun to kiss the smirk off his lips instead.

**Author's Note:**

> CHOPIN by Amy Lowell (excerpt)
> 
> But you can sit in my lap  
> And blink…  
> While I pull your ears  
> In the manner which you find so infinitely agreeable.
> 
> TO WINKY by Amy Lowell (excerpt)
> 
> Shall I choke you, Cat,  
> Or kiss you?  
> Really I do not know.


End file.
